Call Me, Text Me, Maybe?
by Austennerdita2533
Summary: Silas stabs Klaus with the White Oak stake, prompting the Original to call for assistance. Still sore about her banished boyfriend and her near-death from werewolf venom (again), Caroline doesn't answer. She's too busy and important: with prom. Desperate, Klaus leaves her 50-bajillion messages. What does he say? Will Caroline change her mind? Will help arrive in time? (Canon 4x18)


**AUTHOR'S NOTE : Taking a breaking from my multi-chapter fics to bring you this fun one-shot. It was inspired by a KC fan's Tumblr post a while back. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

The problem wasn't the morning typhoon or the drenched and dripping decorations or the fact that she'd probably be attending the senior prom in her fabulous gown stag: it was Klaus. The annoying, never-takes-a-hint, relentlessly charming, banished-her-boyfriend, dimpled devil of a hybrid wouldn't leave Caroline the hell alone! Didn't he have anything _better_ to do? Siblings to dagger? Dopplegangers to blood-drain? Betrayers to dessicate? Seriously anything— _anything at all_ that'd distract him from phone stalking her.

 _Just_ stop _already!_

Caroline scowled at her phone. Currently silent. Mocking her.

It perched, untouched and unhandled, on the prom court table she now decorated…burning…blazing with his unread messages. Blinking in bright and blinding letters, his unheard words haunted her preoccupied mind, threatening her with the desire to surrender. What did they…

 _I don't care, I don't care, I don't care!_ she maintained to herself, shaking her head back-and-forth. _I absolutely do_ not _care what Klaus has to say!_

Caroline was busy, okay? Really, _really_ busy. She didn't have time to…

She tugged at the draping white table cloth, smoothing the crinkled lines to perfection with her nimble, expert fingers. Prom was only five days away and she'd be damned if she surrendered the final details to a bunch of incompetent high school idiots. Besides, it's not like anyone understood her complex organizational charts, anyway.

Matt had already proved that when he'd attempted to hang a disco ball—a freaking disco ball—from the roof of the gazebo. How he'd assumed _that_ would be an acceptable replacement for her "elegant, chandelier-like fixture" she'd never understand. But it proved—beyond a doubt—how indispensable her management would be during these final few days of preparation.

With her party planner alter-ego activated, Caroline became a mean, sheen, prom-planning machine…and no one dared to intervene. No one.

In addition to her prom stress, she was pissed. Foul moods and short tempers for days. Even her smiles felt forced and hollow.

Not only was Elena an off-the-humanity-switch bitch, but most of Caroline's friends had abandoned her. Again. To find the cure and save Elena. _Again_. It's not that she didn't want her best friend back and happy—she did. Caroline wanted that more than anything in the world…but—it's just that—was it wrong to wonder if her friends cared about _her_ happiness? Once and a while? At all? _Ever_?

Worse, Tyler was gone. Forced to scamper far, far away from Mystic Falls in search of a safe haven where Klaus would never find him. It'd been just the two of them for some time now. Together…together, they'd become a team. A dependable unit. Tyler had needed her when he'd trigged the werewolf curse, when he'd turned for the first time, when he'd transitioned into the first successful hybrid—and Caroline liked to be needed. Perhaps she _needed_ to be needed? Like there was something hypnotic about the cherished importance that sprang at her from his eyes? It magnetized her in place. To his side. To his heart.

But with Tyler gone, and Caroline now alone, who else was left? No one else needed her, right? No one else craved that unconditional loyalty and devotion…no one else's eyes bled with that pleading _don't leave me_ or wept with that imploring _please, stay…I need you_ that never once reached the lips, but radiated from the shuttered windows of the soul…no one else's heart purred the syllables of her name…no one.

What was it that Caroline truly desired? To be needed…or wanted? Was there a difference?

 _Buzz. Buzz._

Caroline rolled her eyes at the sound, breaking her free from her reverie. Two more messages. Two more excuses to scoff. Two more reasons to continue stringing twinkle lights.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Matt asked.

He glanced down at her as he scaled a medium-sized step ladder, a loop of white lights hanging loosely from his elbow.

"Nope."

Stepping forward, Caroline collected her clipboard from the table and studied her prom notes for a second.

"Now the important thing—" she instructed, nibbling on her thumbnail "—is that you arrange them so there's an equal amount of swag between each of the hooks—" she pointed at the top of the wall with her fingers "—or it'll look awful—"

"The damn thing has gone off about twelve times now," Matt said.

He sounded annoyed. Not surprising considering Caroline had him climbing up and down ladders for nearly three hours now. She observed and directed from the ground, or as he phrased it, "compulsively corrected."

 _Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

Caroline groaned. _Make that 15._ Apparently old age made Klaus impervious to ignorance. _Seriously, give_ up _already!_

"So?"

She shrugged in _oh-well_ measure at Matt.

"Whoever it is seems pretty insistent, Care…" Matt continued, trailing off. "Don't you think you should—"

If Matt had any idea that Klaus Mikaelson—mass murderer extraordinaire—was on the other end of that phone right now, this conversation would end abruptly. (Let's be honest: the guy wasn't a Mystic Falls fan favorite.) But which was worse? Fending off Matt's _why won't you answer_ questions or explaining exactly _how_ and _why_ the hybrid had her number in the first place? Caroline would take the lesser of two evils, thank you very much.

"—No!" she interjected emphatically.

Smacking her lips together, exasperated, she slammed a lid over the blue pen in her hand and shoved it into the free space on her clipboard.

"This so-called _insistent_ person doesn't deserve my attention right now, okay?" she spat with an exaggerated hair flip.

Matt dropped his head and sighed softly.

"And as you can see—" Caroline inclined her head sideways, looking up at him with stubborn cheerfulness "—I'm too busy dictating to _you_ the proper way to hang lights," she smiled.

Flicking her fingers at him, she signaled that he return to work, and added, "We only have five days, Matt. Time is of the essence!"

Matt leaned back against the ladder and glanced over at her phone, which vibrated another four times.

 _Perfect._

"I don't care why you're upset with this person," he replied, nodding at the table, "but we'd finish this prom crap faster if you answered."

Caroline hated to admit this, but there was truth in what Matt said. Answering would cut down on distraction time. More than that, though, Klaus wasn't the type of person, or man, she could ignore. Like… _ever_. (Which, of course, was the suckiest of sucky epiphanies.)

But that didn't alter her resolve. Not one goddamn inch.

Caroline crossed her arms. She refused to indulge Klaus. Not after he'd killed Mrs. Lockwood. Not after he'd almost sealed her death fate with a werewolf bite. Not after he'd exiled Tyler, her first love, from town…forever. _Refused_.

"Aren't you curious at all…?" Matt prodded from his perch.

Caroline narrowed her eyes.

Annoyed. Aggravated. Angry. All of these emotions stirred within her, blaring against her lungs and restricting air—the sweet tranquility of oxygen—blistering her throat with the toxicity of repression…but not because of Matt. No…these feelings were wholly self-directed. And poignant as hell!

"Maybe…" Caroline admitted reluctantly, gnawing on her bottom lip.

A victorious smile lifted Matt's lips.

Of _course_ she was curious! That was part of the freaking problem, wasn't it? She was _always_ curious about Klaus. Always, always, always! The asshole intrigued her with his worldly insight and his unexpected fondness for art and culture and his uncanny, not to mention unnerving, ability to notice and nurture the strength in her that everyone else seemed to ignore. But she knew better, right?

… _Right?_

Caroline never believed that a monster could crawl under her skin, refuse to leave, and whisper _we are the same_ in her ear like a taunting devil who sat atop her shoulder. But she didn't need to believe it for Klaus—wrecking ball that he was—that he _is_ —to come crashing through her mind all the time, ruining her life. He wouldn't vacate her, for crying out loud! He wouldn't _leave_!

Klaus had become this impossible, intricate puzzle Caroline kept trying to solve. The gravity of his dimples, accent, and wit, of his extensive knowledge, of his encouragement to embrace and accept the wonders of eternal life, they yanked her into nearer orbit…every moment of every day. An electron—around and around and around she circled—closer to him—always closer—unable to stop. Didn't anyone understand how much that terrified her? How much that freaking _sucked_?

Matt descended from the ladder and approached her, pausing only to snatch Caroline's phone from the table as he passed.

"It could be something important—" he said as he handed it to her.

 _Buzz._

"—about Elena."

 _Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

Her face fell as he said this, if only for a moment. Doppleganger status cloaked Elena in the kind of importance that Caroline would probably never acquire for herself—not even as a badass vampire, not even among her closest friends. That knowledge didn't matter in the scheme of things because Caroline knew her friends cared. She knew she was loved. But strangely, for some unknown reason, it still stung.

Perhaps Klaus, too, sought to secure and preserve Elena's humanness once again? His hybrid army was at stake, after all. Suddenly, she felt rather foolish about dodging the Original's calls. Selfish.

 _Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

What kind of person, what kind of friend, would Caroline be if she interfered with—or worse, ignored—a plan to procure the cure for her best friend? Especially when Elena so desperately desired to free herself from the blood-ruling ways of vampirism?

Caroline couldn't do that. It wasn't her. Sincere friendship _far_ outweighed boy trouble…even if that boy trouble came wrapped in the Klaus Mikaelson bow of intriguing nightmares. No pressure or anything, right?

And so, with a gulp and a blazing, phone-heavy palm, Caroline resigned herself to her decision: she'd answer her phone. And Klaus.

 _God help her._

* * *

186 in total. 82 text messages, 45 missed calls, 23 voice mails, 9 emails, and 7 Facebook posts. All within 2.5 hours. A new Klaus record. Hell—a new record, period.

 _Seriously?_ Caroline blinked at her phone in disbelief. He'd uncovered her email? Her Facebook? _Is he_ that _desperate to talk…or just insane?_

After bidding Matt a _don't you dare touch anything until I come back_ farewell, Caroline had retreated outside—away from prying eyes and ears—to face her hybrid phone-stalker alone. She'd found privacy behind some leafy bushes in the woods at the edge of the property. It'd taken her a few minutes to collect and temper her Klaus-rage (Klaus-fear?) before she acknowledged her phone. And her assigned task.

Making a seat of a stump, Caroline, her back leaning comfortably against a walnut tree, sighed and finally swiped her index finger across the screen.

"Okay, you hybrid devil—" She spoke aloud as her mobile balanced on her knees. She placed the device's volume on speaker, muting it enough so that only her acute vampire ears could hear what was said. "—talk to me," she said.

With voicemail-listening first on the agenda, talk Klaus did.

"Caroline, love," started the first message, his accent relaxed and drawling as usual, "I know that after our little Tyler-spat you informed me never to call you again, but…" he laughed, clearly amused, "…never is an _awfully_ long time. I need your assistance," he added, "Please call me back."

Caroline _pfft'd_ at his polite yet civil audacity.

"How about no," she chided at the screen. "You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

The next fifteen messages or so maintained a similar lightheartedness, with Klaus arranging creative and teasing dialogue to entice her to return his calls, never once explaining what he wanted. Ironically, he seemed to be immune to embarrassment. (Which surprised Caroline considering how much he feared rejection). He bribed, badgered, and begged her to answer. To call him back. Voicemail after voicemail after voicemail…

Despite Caroline's current resentment towards him, she found herself entertained. Amused. Some of his messages were so ridiculous, that she found herself giggling outright. In one, an endless stream of _please please please_ rolled off his tongue; and in another, he taunted her with the inevitably of her surrender, contending that, "You can't ignore me forever, sweetheart."

She scoffed at his smug certainty in that one.

"Want to bet?" she challenged.

"Don't pretend that I don't unsettle you—"

An incredulous laugh escaped her.

"—Making me nauseous doesn't count, asshat," Caroline countered, her face suddenly reddening.

The sound of rustling leaves filled the air as she fidgeted on the ground. Stump-sitting wasn't exactly comfortable, you know?

"—that I don't know how to ruffle your perfect control…" Klaus continued, Caroline almost perceiving his dimpled smirk through the phone "…because we _both_ know that I do," he finished.

"Not today," she retorted, all affronted and annoyed.

With a flick, Mr.-Know-It-All's statement disappeared. Deleted.

 _Take that_ , she thought triumphantly.

Klaus flitted between different portals—calls, texts, emails, etc.—every five minutes or so, exhausting any and all contact options to reach Caroline. A few of his messages were down-right ingenious, too. But she'd let Katherine suffocate her to death again before she admitted that out loud.

One email read:

 _Sweet, sweeeeet Caroline,_

 _I've been inclined…I'M REACHIN' OUT! ;)_

"I hope your hands are clean," she spat, still unmoved.

Neil Diamond? Really? Could he _be_ any cheesier?

Apparently he could, because at 12:05 P.M, Klaus tagged her in a Facebook status:

 _Don't let supernaturals try to chase me._

 _Just take this number: (757-863-5465)_

 _And call me maybe?_

 _ **Caroline Forbes**_

Without realizing it, Klaus had made himself vulnerable. Her lips lifted a little at this, partly because the old fart indulged in some Carly Rae Jepsen, and partly because all of the teenage girls in the tri-state area now had the means to contact him. Apparently Mikael and Esther's neglect extended to lacking explanations about strangers…

"Moron," she snorted, swallowing a chuckle, "You'll regret this post later."

A pang suddenly struck Caroline in the chest. For a brief moment, she felt sorry. Sorry for chastising him. Sorry for mocking his abandonment issues. Deep wounds afflicted Klaus, and although she saw them, although she cared, the ingrate made it difficult to show this. Impossible.

Not that it mattered. (It did. It vexed her— _immensely_ —but Caroline refused to reflect on that right now. _Nope_.) Wiping at her eyes, she shook her head clear and focused.

She skimmed through some early text messages, scrolling past the rudimentary _Caroline_ one-liners and the multiple _pick-up-pick-ups_. All boring. All conventional. But she paused, her hand flying over her mouth, laughing, when she stumbled across this unexpected gem:

 **KLAUS** _,_ _10: 48 AM_ _ **:**_

— _We have a problem_...

"No crap—" Caroline scratched at her nose "—but please—" she swooped her arm out wide, clunking her head back against the tree "—enlighten me," she encouraged.

 **KLAUS:**

—… _a LANGUAGE problem._

(Not what she was expecting)

— _You won't respond to English._

— _or French (which I know you understand)_

 **KLAUS** , 10: 49 A.M. **:**

— _I speak Aramaic; but you do not._

— _Perhaps_ this _will translate better?_

—*devil emoji* + *telephone emoji* = *angry angel emoji*

"At least you're not stupid," Caroline commented with a wave, discerning his meaning, "This constant harassment _sucks_."

 **KLAUS:**

 **—** *angry angel emoji* = *devil emoji* + *broken-heart emoji*

Despite knowing better, Caroline thawed a little at this. Her anger and bitterness about Tyler lessened just the tiniest bit with Klaus' admission, manipulative though it certainly was. And thank goodness for that calculating edge, because it kept her from yielding.

"The question is—" she said callously, still scrolling "—where is that heart of yours hiding _now_?"

 **KLAUS** , 10:52 A.M. **:**

—*ghost emoji* + *knife emoji*= *crying devil emoji*

 **KLAUS:**

 **—** *angel emoji* + *car emoji*+ *arrow emoji= *crying devil emoji*

—?

—*prayer emoji*

Caroline erupted into uproarious laughter. She couldn't help it. What the actual _fuck_ was happening right now? Klaus Mikaelson was the Original beast, the monster whose name all supernaturals feared to speak; and yet, here he was, engaged in a full-fledged emoticon conversation with a girl who had yet to answer? Was this real life?

 _I mean…seriously?!_

Collapsing onto her side in the leaves, she laughed until her sides ached. For a few minutes, Caroline sincerely believed that Klaus had drunk himself into a Bourbon stupor (it wouldn't have been the first time), that this entire thing was nothing more than drunk-dialing. Excessive and embarrassing, drunk-dialing, mind you, but drunk-dialing nevertheless.

Suddenly remembering the ghost emoji, however, Caroline shot straight back up. When she first saw it, she had no idea what in the hell Klaus meant. The message had been lost in emoji translation, so to speak. #DrunkHybridProblems

But now, she'd figured it out. (Hopefully.) Klaus was haunted! Klaus was haunted and he'd confessed it out loud to someone… _finally._ He'd confessed it to _her_. (Silly emoji-format, be damned!) This was a step, right? A shred of hope?

At this revelation, at this abysmal scrap of promise, Caroline became possessed. Ravenous for details. She poured through his messages with an unquenchable thirst, with a scorching, uncontainable passion to know more. To uncover everything she could (you know, aside from actually talking to him).

Haunted by what? Did Klaus say, allude, or suggest? His past? His family? His regrets? Tyler? She _needed_ to know, okay? Now.

The further Caroline progressed through his comments, however, and the longer the silence stacked between them—seconds, minutes, hours—the more frantic and distracted his tone became.

"I don't know what to do, anymore," he despaired in a later email, "I'm alone…all alone—" Caroline read this more as a fact than a ploy for her pity "—Tell me what I should do, Caroline."

"I can't," she growled down at her phone, tossing it back into her lap, "because you won't shut up and tell me what's freaking _wrong_!"

Tired, she ran her hand through her curls and sighed. Caroline was under no obligation—no obligation whatsoever—to care that Klaus desired to chat. She wasn't required to care that something was clearly bothering him. But, as usual, that nasty, nagging, little bitch named Curiosity accosted her brain at the most inconvenient and undesirable of moments. She prodded with that exasperating _why_.

Was it awful that Caroline wanted to know _why_ Klaus reached out? Why he was so insistent? Why her? Why now? _Why, why, why_?

It was wrong, wasn't it?

"Caroline, it's Klaus… _again_ —" he growled, clearly teetering over the edge of apathy and into hostility.

Though he enunciated certain words, which altered his inflection, he somehow managed to maintain control of his pesky wolfish aggression, never once resorting to intimidation. Klaus never once threatened her.

"—Perhaps I wasn't clear before—" he muttered into the phone, his voice becoming gruffer and more severe "—but something's happened—" desperation clung to the groan in his throat "—it requires help—" static muffled his words "—help—" he repeated.

More noisy interference clogged the background. Snapping wood? Cracking, shattering glass? Crunching bones? Slicing flesh?

Caroline jolted to attention, bending closer to her phone, straining to hear. What the hell was going on over there? Klaus didn't sound drunk; he sounded dead.

"—Help me…"

 _Click._

Cut off. The last message. The last clue. The last words. Caroline gave him this much: the asshole sure knew how to preserve the mystery.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" she exclaimed.

Grabbing her phone from her knees in one exasperated swipe, Caroline launched herself onto her feet and began whacking her way out of the foliage back to the prom venue. Back to Matt. She'd much rather contend with jaggers and bitchy student council members than that infuriating Original!

 _Typical Klaus_ , Caroline thought.

Blowing up her phone for hours upon hours, he hadn't revealed a damn thing. Nothing. And since when did nothing warrant _her_ precious time and attention? _Never_ , that's when.

Caroline glared down at her phone.

"Just tell me what you need already!" she yelled.

As if on cue, as if the universe somehow heard her, Caroline's palm _buzzed._ Looking down, two new text messages flashed across the screen. They read:

 **KLAUS** ,1:06 P.M **:**

— _I need you, Caroline_

—… _and ONLY you._

Reading this, Caroline's resolve shattered. She couldn't ignore Klaus any longer—she'd help; she'd go to him at the mansion. And to get her there, all it took were those last two words.

* * *

 **ADDITIONAL NOTE : **

**I** **don't remember when precisely social media/email apps became part of mainstream phone usage, so I improvised/took poetic license. I think it made Klaus' I-need-your-help desperation more comical.**

 **Anyway, what do you think?** **Review, por favor. *puppy dog eyes***

 **Thanks for reading! :-D**

 **xx Ashlee Bree**


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